One of the lovely things about having only books on my shelves that I love is that I know every time I reach for one it will be one I will enjoy. I tend to reread the same ones over and over, skipping the bits I don’t like and savouring the parts I have grown to love. One such book is Marjorie Morningstar, a book a friend recommended and loaned to me and one which I loved so much I had to buy a copy of my own.
I am not jewish, or living in New York, or dreaming of a career as an actress, but I can relate to the other Marjorie as she tries to figure out who she is, where she’s going, and what she’s going to do with herself. I reread it again recently and it still sparks a lot of joy.
And, it turns out, Herman Wouk is still alive, and will turn 102 in a couple of weeks. I am sure he knows how much joy this book still brings to people, decades after he wrote it.